Spy Games
by LostinOblivion
Summary: There's something to be said for experience, it helps you stand strong against the sharks. An alternative scenario for Emily's departure. Read A/N inside please.
1. Chapter 1

_This idea came from discussing theories with a friend, before the whole Emily-Doyle arc. She thought the exchange quoted below would come back to bite Emily in the ass, and I was still thinking she'd leave via breakdown. The two thoughts together put a story in my head. Shanini86, this is for you._

_I frankly, don't feel enough for the Seaver character to hate her. I do however, find her dull, unnecessary and frankly, rather useless as far as the show goes. I also find it extremely unrealistic that a cadet gets to train in a unit that requires at least 8 years of experience before they'll consider an applicant (it's on the FBI website). This being said, I did try to be fair and true to her character, but my bias may have leaked in. That being said, she is not the hero of this piece, and if you are attached to her, you probably won't like this.  
_

_This story will be posted in two parts. It travels between Seaver and Emily's heads._

* * *

"_I wanted to thank you for having my back."_

"_I hope you have mine."_

_Seaver and Prentiss in '25 to Life'_

January 5, 2011

Seaver fidgeted in her seat, squeezing her hands together and releasing them in a slow, rhythmic fashion. Her stomach was twisted rather artistically into a ball of knots and launched somewhere in her throat. She had never met with Section Chief Strauss, and she hadn't expected too this earlier in her career. It was common knowledge, or more likely common rumor that the woman didn't meet often with her underlings unless it was to reprimand them. But, the young cadet had gotten a summons from her secretary this morning, and she hadn't even been able to touch her breakfast, or even her coffee.

Emily had told her not to worry about it, but then her mentor was pretty much unflappable. Most of the team was pretty unflappable; she assumed that came from experience. They'd all been looking at crime scene photos, questioning suspects, and talking to distraught family members for years. She had just started. Seaver was working with living legends, and frankly, she was well aware that she was in over her head. It didn't mean she was willing to give that up though, she'd learn and she'd get better. She was getting an experience none of her friends in the Academy would ever have the opportunity for.

Her friends had a lot of questions for her when she returned to the Quantico dorms, and she didn't have many answers. Passing rumors about agents was a pastime in the Academy, and the members of the team she was working on, there were some doozies about them. A few, she had already confirmed. The team was extremely close, almost like a family. The great Aaron Hotchner rarely smiled. Derek Morgan was even better to look at up close, and he was not having a love affair with Penelope Garcia. And, David Rossi actually wasn't a prick, he just preferred to leave people with that impression, it kept them at arms-length.

"Agent Seaver? You can go in now." Strauss's secretary smiled, and nodded toward the door.

She thought she might vomit right there. Instead she smiled back. "Thank you."

A quick, soft rap on the door, and she pushed it open. She walked to the front of the desk, heart thudding in her chest so forcefully she could feel it in her fingertips. "Ma'am."

"Agent Seaver, please have a seat." The Section Chief glanced up, then back at her paper, jotting down some note, before looking back up, removing the reading glasses perched on her nose. She actually smiled. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad. "How are you finding your time with the BAU?"

"Wonderful, well very educational...ma'am."

"You're learning to handle yourself in the field more effectively?"

She inhaled. "Yes, it's very different from training, ma'am. It's very helpful experience."

Strauss nodded, mouth tightening. "And, the team? You're finding them effective teachers? Supportive?"

"Uh, yes, yes, ma'am. They've all been very kind and helpful." Seaver shifted involuntarily, palms already drenched in sweat.

"Agent Prentiss has take taken on the responsibility of mentor to you, is that right?" Her expression didn't change, but remained infuriately neutral.

"Yes, she has, and she's been really great about it. I've learned a lot from her, and the rest of the team."

Again, the older woman nodded. "Agent Rossi has had good things to say about you."

"It's been an honor to learn from him, ma'am." And, yet that acknowledgement still didn't bring much relief.

Strauss almost smirked, then sobered. "You understand, Agent Seaver, the BAU is one of the Bureau's most elite teams, that the opportunity you're getting is highly unusual."

"I'm aware of that, yes, and very grateful for it."

"Tell me, Ashley, what are your plans for after graduation from the Academy. Have you decided which field offices you're interested in working out of?"

She swallowed. "I've been thinking about it ma'am, but I haven't quite come to a decision."

Another small nod, her fingers absently playing with her pen. "How would you feel about being placed in the BAU with your current team, after your remedial training is complete?"

Her mouth fell open. That wasn't supposed to be allowed. "I-I would be ecstatic, ma'am. But, I thought new agents were allowed in NCAVC?"

"I'm the Section Chief, Ashley. I can circumvent such rules if I see cause, and I can be swayed to see cause in your case."

"I'm-I'm honored, ma'am." What the hell was going on here? She felt like she'd just won the lottery.

"Of course, you realize this arrangement would be contingent on you cooperation with a little side project?"

That didn't sound so bad. "Anything I can assist you with, I'd be happy to help."

Another almost smirk. "This must be kept under the strictest confidence, Agent Seaver. It will only be discussed between you and I, is that understood?"

She nodded eagerly.

"I'd like to be kept apprised of team goings-on, specifically on Agents Hotchner and Prentiss."

And, suddenly it was not so awesome. She frowned. "Should I be concerned about them ma'am?"

A gentle smile this time. "No, Ashley, you needn't worry, but I would like you to let me know if there's anything that causes you concern."

"May I ask why the interest in them in particular?"

"You may not," she said quickly. "But, I will tell you, Ashley, you ought to be aware for you to be placed on that BAU team, there needs to be an open position."

Her mouth fell open again, as she listened to the other shoe drop. Strauss was asking her to get dirt on Hotch and Emily? Well, she supposed it only had to be one of them. Still… She slowly managed to close her mouth, swallowing with difficulty, her mouth already dry.

"I can see you're a little uncomfortable with that. There isn't any rush, you still have several weeks left in your remedial training. You can come and see me anytime you like, alright?" There was an almost affectionate, motherly smile. Dear god, this woman was master manipulator.

Seaver just nodded. Strauss sighed. "You best get back to the BAU, or you might miss the morning's briefing."

She got up, still in shock and wandered out the door. Strauss gave her the chance of a lifetime, and then she took that chance hostage. It was hers if she got enough dirt to bury her boss or her mentor, the two people responsible for giving her the opportunity in the BAU in the first place. If Emily hadn't agreed to mentor her, Hotch never would have given her a chance. How did she make this choice?

* * *

January 10, 2011

A soft gasp drew her awake, eyes blinking into the darkness of the hotel room. Her eyes finally adjusted and she found her roommate awake, sitting up, and trying to catch her breath. Emily had had a nightmare, was her guess. They'd ended up sharing rooms at the small, nearly completely booked hotel. They took a room together, which she was pretty sure was more for her benefit than Emily's. The woman had actually looked mildly amused at the alarmed expression on her face when Morgan had asked Emily if she wanted to share. Apparently, Reid muttered loudly in his sleep.

It hadn't occurred to her that they went co-ed with rooms, she felt like that would break rules or something. Emily had nodded in her direction, offered him a look, and he seemed to know exactly what she meant just from that. They all did that, it drove her crazy sometimes. They'd just look at each other, and know what was going on, while she flopped around like a beached fish. So, they ended up together, and Morgan grudgingly shared with Reid, with a teasing warning to his colleague.

Now, her mentor opened her mouth and sucked in a long breath, and to her surprise, she saw the moonlight reflected in the tracks of moisture on her face. So, her mentor wasn't completely unflappable. Dreams scared her and brought tears to her eyes. Emily wiped off the tears, one hand remaining over her mouth, as she turned toward Seaver. She snapped her eyes shut, and pretended to still be asleep. She heard shuffling, feet hit the floor, Emily sliding shoes on, and the mechanical clucking, ticking of the door opening and quietly shutting.

She opened her eyes. Where had she gone? Seaver laid in bed for a few more minutes, before parroting the profiler's actions, and opening the door. She checked that she had her key before she quietly closed it, and tiptoed down the hall. She didn't know why she felt compelled to be sneaky, she just did.

They were in Georgia, and the only hotel in town was a enormous, beautiful old house that held a grand total of 10 rooms, four of which their teams occupied. Hotch and Rossi got their own rooms. The house also had a ornate sitting and dining rooms, reminiscent of the old South, and a wrap around verandah. She quietly made her way downstairs, and noted that while it was lit, Emily was not inside. It was a warm night, so she headed out the side door, once again being very quiet to close the door. She didn't want to disturb the other patrons of the hotel.

She moved almost silently on the porch, her soft shoes practically soundless on their own, and was nearly at the corner when she stopped dead. Voices. More than one, yes, two that she recognized. Soft voices. She gave a quick glance, and confirmed her ears were functioning correctly. Morgan was up as well, and the two profilers were sitting close together on a porch swing at the end of the verandah.

"So, what's the topic on Reid's mind tonight?" Emily asked, lips curved up slightly in amusement.

"Time travel, I think. It sounded like he was almost arguing with himself." Morgan shook his head. "Next time, the kid can bunk with him."

"That seems a little cruel."

"It's either that, or I duck tape his mouth shut," he joked. "And, what has you up in the middle of the night?"

She lifted a shoulder. "Bad dream, the usual."

"Feel like talking about it?"

"Not really."

He nodded, but watched her carefully, as her face turned toward her lap. "Would you like to tell me what's been going on with you then?"

Startled Emily looked up. "What do you mean?"

"Something has been bothering you for a while now, and I'll give you credit, Princess, you're hiding it real well, but I can still see it. Talk to me."

She stared at him a moment, before finally sighing. "I'm tired."

"I'm guessing this isn't the kind of tired a couple sleeping pills can fix?"

"No, it's not that kind of tired."

Morgan took her hand, and wiggled it. "Tell me about it."

"Do you ever just feel like you've had enough? The crime scenes, the depravity we see on a daily basis, the people sobbing over the loss of loved ones, the twisted freaks that feel no empathy and no remorse. It feels like it's never-ending, and some days I'm just so tired of seeing blood, and dead eyes, and trying to comfort strangers. It feels like we operate on this sub-level of existence, we chase the monsters and face the darkness, so everyone else can pretend it doesn't exist, or face the danger in the safety of their homes through a movie or a book. I guess sometimes I want to be like everyone else." She finished staring into the distance, into the darkness they were so at home in.

"I don't know that I've ever thought of us as different from 'normal' people," he said, putting normal in air quotes.

She gave him an 'are you kidding' look. "We have a job that people think sounds cool, but would never want to do themselves. No one has FBI serial killer hunter listed as their 'what I want to be when I grow up' when they're five, or even ten. We aren't normal, Derek. Normal people don't do what we do, or see what we see. Normal people are scared to death of what we face everyday...normal people can't pull the trigger of a gun and not flinch when the body hits the ground."

"You make us sound like monsters," he said, softly.

She considered that, and then gave a quiet, bitter snort. "Well, think of folklore and classic literature, the monster hunters always have a little monster in them. It's what gives them an edge."

His eyebrows were kissing his forehead, and he was staring at her as if he didn't recognize her. "We catch them because we've been trained to think like them, but that's it. We aren't really like them, I know you can't possibly believe that."

She sighed and shook her head. "I have no idea what I believe or don't anymore."

"Maybe you should consider a vacation, it's been a long time if I remember correctly," he said.

"It has...but I think it's more than that."

"Well, start with a vacation, a long one, and if that doesn't help, think about a transfer." His hand tightened almost imperceptibly on hers, betraying his feelings on the idea.

"I don't think that will work either...I was on a date the other night, he was a nice guy, a dentist, and he was telling me how much trouble he was having with one of his suppliers. This supplier is responsible for getting him, among other things, little mini-tubes of bubble gum flavored toothpaste, which he gives on to his young patients. He's going on and on about what a headache it's been trying to get the shipment, and how he's been disappointing kids all week...and, all I can think is, a shortage of bubble gum toothpaste, that's a hard day at work for you? A hard day at work for me is finding the mutilated body of an eight year-old, or having to shoot a guy in the stomach because I blew my cover after all of three minutes." She ran her tongue over her bottom lip and shook her head. "This gets into your head, Morgan, and then it never goes away. And, if you aren't chasing the monsters, all you can think is that you should be, because they're still out there, and how can you sleep knowing that?"

"Have you considered speaking to someone?"

She looked at him. "I am speaking to someone."

Morgan grinned. "I don't mean me, though I'm always here if you need to do that. I mean like a professional."

She scoffed. "Come on Morgan, you know me, that would not go well."

"If you mean am I aware that you're as stubborn as a bull, then yes, I'm fully aware of that," he teased. Then he grew serious. "But, maybe you should still think about it."

The look she gave him wasn't exactly kind. "Fine, I'll think about it."

He nodded, squeezing her hand again, as they drifted off into silence, both staring blindly into the night. After minutes of that, Morgan suddenly sighed. "Come on now, let's see if we can't get a little sleep before we have to get back to work."

She grinned. "You eager to see how Reid's debate ends?"

* * *

January 11, 2011

"Are you okay?"

Seaver actually jumped at the voice, she had been so lost in thought. They were on the jet, flying back to Quantico, and she'd put herself in the back, away from everyone else. Until the object of her thoughts appeared beside her, concern radiating on her face.

She put on a smile. "Yeah, just tired."

Emily studied her a moment. "I know this work can be...very challenging in a lot of ways. If you ever need to talk it out, you can come to me or any of the guys, okay?"

She nodded. Emily gave her an encouraging smile, and a shoulder squeeze, and made to head to the front of the plane. "Emily?"

She backtracked. "Yeah?"

"You love this job, right?"

"I love the team, I feel fulfilled by the job."

Seaver nodded, and the profiler headed back to whatever she'd been doing. And, Seaver returned to thinking about last night, about the conversation she'd heard between her colleagues. Her mentor's reputation for being unflappable had crumbled in less than an hour's time. She just hid what she was feeling scarily well. Emily Prentiss was decidedly not the picture of emotional health.

And, she was thinking about her meeting with Section Chief Strauss last week. Really, this is something the SC should know. Normally, she might pass it to the Unit Chief first, but the team was really, very close, Hotch included, and he would protect Emily, of that she was certain. She was the only person on the team with the emotional distance to be objective. And, Emily was one of the people the SC had specifically mentioned to her. It was possible Strauss was already aware that something bad was going on with Emily, and was looking out for her. It could be that she'd only be confirming the older woman's suspicions by telling her what she'd overheard.

Seaver shook her head, she just didn't know what to do.

When the jet landed, she grabbed her bag and headed straight back to the cadet dorms at Quantico. Her roommate, Ava was parked on her bunk, studying one of her textbooks, and the other woman's presence brought a smile to her face. Ava looked up from her text, then shut it quickly. "Hey, how was the case? And, have I told you how jealous I am of you?"

"You have, and it was...tiring. We caught the guy, but he killed another kid before we got to him." She sighed.

"That's the job, Ashley, you have to make your peace with it or quit now." Ava was half black, half Dominican, grew up in Brooklyn, and had all the rough edges that comes from surviving the inner city. She was also brilliant, with an almost maternal kindness. She treated Ashley like a babysister most of the time, which the blonde tried not to be offended by. Ava also had several younger siblings.

"Ava?" She asked. "Have you ever thought about burning out?"

"Don't tell me you're there already," she asked, incredulously.

"No. No, I'm just concerned about one of the agents I'm working with."

"You think one of that BAU team is burning out?"

Seaver thought about that for a minute, and then nodded. "I think maybe, yeah."

Ava shrugged. "If you're worried tell Hotchner, he's the Unit Chief, personnel is his problem."

"Do you think that's it though? If you start to burnout, you're done, there's no coming back?" She asked.

"You can't relight a candle that's burnt itself to a puddle of wax," she said, then shrugged. "But, how do you know the flame was snuffed from the wax, and not just a breeze?"

Seaver smirked. "Very poetic, Ava."

The other woman grinned. "Mask a non-answer in poetry, and people will look at your like you're Einstein and Shakespeare rolled into one."

* * *

January 20, 2011

Emily thrust her fists into the heavy bag, quick jabs and crosses, the feel of the thick boxing gloves slamming into the dense bag radiating up her arms. Her hair was tied back, and her face was already red and sweaty. She hadn't been at this all that long, but hitting a bag took a lot out of you, even though she kept up with her cardio. She breathed rapidly and heavily in and out, in and out as she pounded on the bag with jabs and crosses. She threw in a few hooks, and a couple of uppercuts too, just to be thorough.

The door opened and she heard voices, which suddenly stopped, and then the door opened again, the voices gone with it. She'd been told she had a pretty effective, 'dangerous look', apparently whoever came in thought so too. Of course, it was only aimed at a punching bag now, hardly any danger to that.

She wasn't sure what set her off tonight. She'd come down to the training gym as soon as they'd walked out of the jet. Reid was fine. The dumbass had taken off his vest, and for that she wanted to slap the shit out of him, but he'd walked away really without a scratch. She shouldn't have been so freaked from the whole thing, she shouldn't be so upset, but she was both. Morgan had let Reid have an earful after they were done at the station, so much that apparently Hotch didn't feel the need to follow it up with an ass-chewing of his own. Reid had looked sufficiently chastised.

She stopped hitting a minute, and bounced around on her feet, taking a minute to catch her breath before launching into another attack. Light on her feet, she circled the bag, fists assailing it in an assault that would leave any human opponent crippled and surrendering. This is what comes from working out with the likes of Derek Morgan, he liked playing teacher, and she didn't mind a free personal instructor. The man knew his fighting techniques.

The door opened again, but there were no voices this time, just quiet steps coming in her direction. She didn't turn to see who it was, didn't much care who came in. If they knew what was good for them, they wouldn't bother her. But, she could sense the person stop not far from her, and feel their eyes watching her. She ignored them another couple minutes, hoping they'd leave or say whatever they came for, but they did neither. She took another break, dancing on her toes as she turned. She sighed. "How did your exams go, Seaver?"

"Good, I think." She seemed nervous, unsure, and Emily figured the two people from earlier must have been cadets, who knew Seaver was working with the team.

Cadets generally kept their distance from the agents at Quantico, they were intimidated, she assumed. It was hard to be confident when you're still learning what other people have been putting into practice for years. Seaver herself still didn't seem entirely comfortable around the team, but Emily figured that work itself out in time. "Do you need something?" Emily asked, throwing punches at the bag again.

"No, I just uh, heard you were in here and thought I'd stop in and say hi, since I was nearby, you know."

Emily snorted a laugh. "Don't get into undercover work, Seaver, you're a terrible liar." She turned to see the girl shifting nervously. "I'm fine, if that's what you're in here about."

She nodded. "I heard Agent Reid had a close call on the case you guys had today and yesterday."

"He did, but he's fine." At least, he wasn't shot. She wasn't totally confident about the fine part though.

"That's good to hear."

There was several beats of silence in which the cadet just stood there watching her until Emily just couldn't take it anymore. She stopped and turned to face the younger woman. "Are you just going to stand there and watch me all night?"

Seaver glanced at the floor. And, Emily sighed through her heavy breaths feeling a little bad about her short fuse. "Emily?" She suddenly asked.

"What?"

"Are you crying?"

Startled, Emily pulled off a glove, and swept a hand over her face. Shit. She covered quickly, wiping at her face, sweat and all. "It's just sweat, Seaver."

The blonde nodded, but obviously didn't believe her. Feeling her temper rising, Emily batted it down. "You better get going, I'm sure you have studying to do," she said, effectively dismissing her.

Seaver simply nodded, and hurried out of the gym. Emily bent over and took several slow deep breaths, while wiping away the tears that were still falling, and probably had been the entire time she was hitting the bag.

* * *

February 18, 2011

She needed a break. Seaver tossed down the photo of the man who'd been practically gutted and left to rot and fester in an abandoned warehouse. They'd determined their unsubs were organ harvesters, preying on homeless people that no one noticed missing. The first several victims were only missing an organ or two, but the last one was missing six, according to Reid's count. His chest was sliced wide-open, and the pictures were so horrifying she almost got sick. Morgan and Emily had been at the actual crime scene, and recently returned. He went with Rossi to question a possible witness, and she went...well, Seaver wasn't quite sure she'd gone.

Reid was going over the evidence with her, actually he was marking up a map more like. Hotch was in the higher-ups among the locals, discussing their findings so far. Now was as good a time as any to hit the bathroom, and grab a cold bottle of water. She pushed away from the table, and headed to the ladies room. As soon as she pushed open the door, she heard the awful sounds of someone retching.

Seaver winced and continued inside, and knocked gently on the door to the stall which the person was in. "Uh, excuse me are you alright?"

The retching continued for another minute, then a long breath. "I'm fine, Seaver." A very unhappy Emily Prentiss responded.

She heard the profiler moving around, the toilet flushing, and then she opened the door and almost walked right into Seaver. "Excuse me," she said.

The cadet moved, and watched Emily wash out her mouth, and wash around her lips, cleaning her hands with soap, all the while occasionally glancing in the mirror. "Did you come in here looking for me?"

"What?" She asked startled. "Oh no, I came in to use the bathroom...are you sure you're okay, Emily?"

"Yes, and I'd appreciate if you could keep this between us," she said.

Like the crying in the gym, Seaver thought. "Of course," she said.

Emily nodded, and headed out of the bathroom. Since she'd returned to working with the team two weeks ago, she'd deduced that her mentor wasn't doing much better. In fact, she'd spent the last couple cases watching Emily basically not eat at some meals, just move the food around her plate. She noted the guys glancing at her and exchanging looks, and Hotch had pulled her into his office early this past Monday. It was disconcerting, but the guys and Emily pressed on with cases and work as if nothing was amiss.

Seaver knew the team was very protective of each other, and they were all individually secretive, so the behavior shouldn't surprise her, but she was a little annoyed she wasn't being told anything. Even when she tried to discuss it with Rossi, he was quick to change the subject, and the man knew a lot about a lot of subjects, it wasn't hard for him to find one. She didn't find Hotch or Morgan to be the easiest people to approach, Reid was liable to launch into a sci-fi spiel, and frankly, Garcia made her a little nervous. She was a bit too colorful.

Seaver washed her hands and sighed. This was getting ridiculous, something needed to be done.

* * *

February 19, 2011

It had taken a while to find the people responsible for the organ harvesting, but they'd managed that afternoon, and had gotten back on the jet by the evening. After much mental coaxing, she found herself waiting in the Section Chief's ante-office. It was late enough that most people had already gone home, the team included, but it didn't stop her from constantly glancing over her shoulder. She could tell herself as much as she wanted that she had Emily's best interests in heart, and part of what brought her here was concern for her mentor. But, SC Strauss hadn't been subtle about what she intended to do with whatever information Seaver brought her.

Which is why the cadet's hands were hot and clammy. But, she'd made the decision, and she was prepared to deal with whatever fall-out occurred. It was an impossible opportunity to pass up, she'd be the youngest agent on a BAU team, quite possibly ever, and Emily had given her plenty of an excuse to go through with it.

"She's ready for you now, Agent Seaver," the secretary said, returning the phone to its cradle. Seaver nodded her thanks, and made for the office door.

"Ashley, please have a seat." Strauss greeted her with a warm smile. "I trust you've had time to consider my proposition?"

"Yes ma'am, I have."

"And, I trust your presence in my office means you've come to a decision."

Seaver nodded, and swallowed the nerves fluttering in her stomach that angry butterflies. "I'm concerned about Agent Prentiss's mental state, and wonder how much longer she'll be effective in the field."

Strauss actually seemed startled by that, a deep frown settling on her face. "Are you certain of this, Ashley?"

She felt suddenly queasy. but controlled it. "Yes, ma'am."

She watched the SC's mouth curve into a pleased smile, not unlike a predator. "You better tell me what you know, Agent."

* * *

February 21, 2011

Emily made her way up to Rossi's office after most of the other agents had cleared out. Seaver was still studying, and Reid was trying to stay ahead in his consults so he might actually get to take his vacation at the end of the month. He was going to go to Vegas for a week to spend time with his mother. Morgan had left, Hotch too. Jack's school had called earlier, the boy was acting out and being disruptive, which had evidently been a concern since the anniversary of his mother's death.

She knocked on Rossi's door.

"Hey, come in." He smiled and gestured to a chair.

"So, Hotch told you he and Morgan think I'm losing it?"

Rossi was completely unbothered. "Those weren't his exact words. He told me he's been checking in with you weekly for the last couple months, and frankly, I don't blame him."

She raised an eyebrow at him.

"You are going through something, my dear, and you aren't fooling anyone, including your young charge down there."

"Did she say something to you?" God, that wasn't good.

"She has tried to discuss the matter with me, and I politely change the subject," he said. "So, would you like to tell me what's going on?"

"Morgan thinks I should see a shrink," she huffed.

"Well, from where I'm sitting that doesn't sound like a bad idea." He ignored her scowl. "Insomnia, lack of appetite, depressed mood, fatigue, irritability, what does that sound like to you? And, I'm willing to bet there's also lack of interest, focus on guilt or worthlessness-"

"Yeah, yeah, I get the idea." She crossed her arms over her chest. He could have been reading the diagnostic criteria for a major depressive episode, and hearing it out loud only made her more tense.

"We nag because we care, Emily." He studied her, and Emily looked away and tried to ignore his gaze. "I know what you're thinking-"

"Really? You're a psychic now?" It came out far nastier than she meant it too.

"I'm far too used to your attitude to be bothered by it," he said, smirking.

"You sound like my mother."

He chuckled, and she thought she was in the clear, but he sobered quickly. "You think it makes you weak, and you feel like you can't afford to be weak. But, Emily? Asking for help takes far more strength than hiding in your own misery. And, I remember a time when I didn't ask for help in slaying one of my demons; three of my colleagues showed up determined to give it anyway. I told them to go to hell, but they're all as stubborn as mules." He smiled.

Emily sighed, and offered a half-grin. "That we are."

"So how does this pow-wow generally work with Hotch?" He asked.

"Pretty much like this."

"No wonder you seemed so enthusiastic," he cracked.

"Does that mean I can go, you'll tell Hotch I was a good girl and did what I was told?" She asked hopefully. She felt like a troubled teenager with weekly appointments with the guidance counselor.

Rossi snorted. "Like he'd ever believe that." Then he leaned forward, and leveled an unflinching gaze at her. "Emily, I know when you were a kid you weren't given much support from your parents, that you were generally left to take care of yourself on your own. I also know that's a hard mentality to shake, and that trusting someone to offer you emotional support is probably far more frightening for you than facing down any of the unsubs this unit has put away in the last few decades. But, when you feel strong enough to do that, you know anyone on this team will be there for you. Even if you fall apart, no one here is going to judge."

She didn't speak, just stared back at him.

He leaned back. "You are free to go then."

Emily blinked. "That's it?"

"Is there supposed to be more to this weekly pep-talk?"

"Well, Hotch usually spends ten minutes trying to coax me into seeing a shrink." Her least favorite part of these little chats.

Rossi held up empty hands. "If you don't think you need help, nothing I or anyone else says is going to make you get it. So yes, you can go now, I'll tell Hotch your fulfilled your weekly obligation."

Emily was so accustomed to pushing back when she was being pushed that she wasn't quite sure what to do then. He'd stopped pushing, leaving her nothing to push against. Suddenly, it felt as if her whole body deflated, the fight rushing out of her like air from a balloon. With no reason to push back, she finally surrendered. Glancing at her hands, stomach clenched in a deep ache, she pressed her lips together and looked back up at him.

Her eyes shining with unshed tears, Emily nodded. "I do need help."


	2. Chapter 2

_A couple notes. I'm obviously not trained in behavioral profiling, so I did the best I could with this first part. It's something I wanted to show, especially since the show hasn't. Weiqi is the game 'Go', but I figured Reid would use the original name, so that's what I used. Thank you everyone that read and reviewed the first chapter!_

_There will be further A/Ns at the end._

* * *

February 27, 2011

It had been a week since she'd gone to see Strauss and nothing had come of it yet. Sitting with the team, and working cases, knowing what she'd done and what the SC had planned, it was getting harder and harder to bear. They all seemed ignorant to her anxiety, or more likely just attributed it to nervous jitters from inexperience. These people rarely missed anything.

Emily wasn't doing any better, but she didn't seem to be any worse either, though it was clear she wasn't getting a whole lot of sleep. And, the guys were still well aware of what was going on, and not bothering to share anything with her. Although, from what she could tell, there wasn't much going on. She'd seen Emily go into Hotch and Rossi's offices a couple times in the last couple weeks, though that could simply be for help with consultations.

The profiler blinked at her now. "Was that word for word from the textbook?" She asked.

Seaver winced. "Maybe."

A patient nod. "Okay, that's a good start."

"I totally got that wrong, didn't I?" She asked. An hour ago, Emily had given her a consultation request, and told her to review it, then they'd go over it together. She'd just rattled off what she'd thought was an accurate profile.

"I wouldn't say that," Emily said. "The thing with profiling is that it's an art more than a science. It's very rare than an unsub actually matches the textbook profiles."

"What do you mean? If they don't match, how can you...?" Oh, now she was confused.

"It's okay," Emily assured her. "The basic profiles are just sort of templates. Each ubsub is very nuanced, there will be pieces of the puzzle that don't always fit with what you know, and you have to create new pictures to make them fit. Occasionally, you'll get lucky and the unsub will be dead-on with one of the profiles, but that's like once every few years."

"But, how do you know how to put the pieces together, or what the picture is supposed to look like? Oh, I'm so lost right now," she blurted.

Emily smiled. "Don't worry. Here, let's walk through this together, and I'll show you."

She picked up the consultation file, and opened it to the photos. "Young victims, 14 and 15, both female, from the same school, but different races, Kayla is white, Sonal is Indian. The girls were found at the primary crime scene, which was a good distance from traffic, and out of eyesight. They were both killed with blunt force trauma, one with a stone, the other a brick, both raped, and left fairly exposed, but with their faces covered. They also found candy wrappers and empty soda bottles at both scenes, and the autopsies revealed both girls had eaten the type of candy and soda found at the scene. Two sets of prints, and two sets of DNA were found. Are you forming a picture in your head of the unsubs?"

"Yeah, I think so," she said, looking up from the photos.

"Alright, now lets look at victimology, you pointed out before that it was quite different," Emily said.

"Yes, the girls are different races, and seem to have different personalities. Sonal was an athlete, and a poet, and highly religious, Kayla was known for getting into trouble, but did play her flute in the marching band."

"Good, now tell me what they had in common."

She surveyed the reports. "Uh, okay, they were around the same age, went to the same school, they both stayed after school the day they were abducted, um..."

"Tell me about their families," Emily coaxed.

She searched out the information. "Sonal's family was strict, her parents put a lot of pressure on her, at least according to the statements from her friends. And Kayla's parents were in the middle of a tense divorce, according to her friends, they put Kayla in the middle." She paused, and then got it. "Oh, they were both stressed, pressured."

"As if there isn't already enough in high school," the profiler mumbled. "So, put it all together, tell me who I'm looking for."

"Okay, they were probably white, maybe one was Indian or some other minority? 25-45, they were disorganized, it doesn't look like they planned anything, but it doesn't feel like a first time...I'd say it was a couple guys in the neighborhood, maybe stopped and offered a ride, coaxed them to that spot, a break from school and their parents."

Emily nodded. "Reasonable, but look, candy wrappers and soda, who usually eats those?"

"Kids."

"Exactly."

She didn't get it, and then she frowned. "Wait, you think kids did this?"

"Boys they went to school with would know their troubles, the kids would offer to walk them home, stop at a place away from civilization, bitch and moan, eat junk food, and then attack when the girl isn't expecting it. These girls would both trust kids they went to school with," she said.

"But, kids tend to attack older women."

Emily nodded. "That's true, but this is what I mean by thinkng past the textbooks. You see their faces are covered, but they were left exposed, and the bodies weren't maniuplated in any other way. After they killed them they didn't want to hang around, they were nervous and left quickly. But, they covered the faces, because they knew the girls. And, there was no torture, no sodomy, there wasn't any, how shall I say, special touches, as you'd expect from a more experienced man. The rape was quick and basic as well, again nervous, younger offenders. Also with race, an older man would know what he likes, like most teenage boys, these offenders just wanted a pulse and a vagina."

She blinked at her mentor's bluntness. "Right."

Emily covered her mouth as a yawn escaped her, and glanced at the time. "I have to meet with Hotch, you want to look at another one while I'm gone?"

* * *

March 6, 2011

She had all of five seconds to decide to do it or not, and with a fifteen year-old boy in danger, she wasn't about to choose not.

They had entered the house less than ten minutes ago, hoping like hell that they weren't too late to save Sebastian Thomas, the latest teenage boy the unsub had abducted with the intent to molest and murder. They found the unsub in the basement, the boy tied up, but on his feet, the unsub with a six inch blade pressed to his throat.

It was always the fucking basement, like they had some guidebook they all followed. _The basement is the most sound-proof area in the house, and as such we psychos find it appropriate to set up shop. It should be kept as dingy and sinister looking as possible... _

The kid was terrified. He was in only a pair of boxers, and she'd found herself praying that the unsub hadn't gotten to molest him yet. As one could imagine, Morgan took this case a bit personally, and he was eager to rip the unsub apart. But, he'd come down the stairs that were straight in front of the unsub, Rossi, Hotch and Reid with him. They were confined to the steps and the space on the floor directly in front of them. Anymore steps, and the unsub would slash the boy's throat.

It was one of those old houses though, with bizarre secret passageways, so closets led to stairways and rooms. She and Seaver found one that led to stairs, and now they were behind the unsub. Though they were both wearing vests, she kept the cadet behind her as they ventured soundlessly out of the basement closet/passageway thing. She was inexperienced in the field, and Emily felt somewhat responsible for her. She quickly assessed the situation, Hotch trying to gently talk the unsub down, Rossi and Reid backing him up with words of their own, Morgan just looking furious.

This unsub wouldn't be talked down. His life was ruined the minute they arrested him-a high school drama club instructor that molested children. Sebastian was on his team, the first he'd taken from his own students. The other three boys had been pulled from outside the state, and dumped in the neighboring town. If she walked up, and pressed her glock to his head, he'd cut the boy's throat, forcing her to shoot him. No, she needed to get the boy and the knife as far apart as possible.

She turned behind herself, motioned Seaver to stay back, hopefully out of harm's way. Then she met Hotch's eyes, and holstered her weapon. Carefully silently, with her teammates focused on the unsub so as not to give away the game, she crept up to him, and jumped on him. Arms snaking quickly around his body, dragging his right arm with the hand holding the knife, away enough for the boy to sneak out, twisting his left wrist to weaken his grip of the kid, Emily used all her body weight force him to the ground.

He wasn't done, and he was furious. They tussled on the cold concrete, mass of arms and legs fighting for control in motions so quick it was impossible to see who was winning. Until she felt a burning in her side, just above her waist. The irony of bulletproof vests is that knives go through them pretty easily. She gasped, and momentarily released her grip on his left hand so she could land a hard hit to his face. He screamed and she kneed him in the groin as footsteps got close. Someone landed a hit to his back, affectively stopping his struggle, and then he was being dragged off her.

She was gasping for breath, and accepted the hand Reid offered as she got to her feet. He stared at her. "Are you alright?"

"Uh...I think he got me." Sure enough, she moved the hand she slapped over her left side, and found a mess of blood seeping out of the cut in the vest.

"I'll see if the paramedics got here yet," Seaver said and ran up the basement steps. She'd looked as pale as a ghost, but Emily figured that happened the first time you see that you and your colleagues aren't immortal.

The unsub was cuffed, currently in Hotch's possession, as he didn't quite trust Morgan not to beat the piss out of him, and they were all trying to catch their breath. She noticed eyes on her then, and shook her head. "It's not bad, he didn't get the knife in very deep. I'll probably just need a few stitches."

Rossi coaxed her over. "Sit down until the paramedics get here. We'll take the unsub up to the locals, they should be here by now. Reid, you'll stay with her?"

He nodded, and Hotch and Rossi left with the unsub. Morgan was off to the side with Sebastian, speaking gently to him, and handing him his cell phone so the kid could call his mother. And, he did, addressing her as 'mommy' and weeping unabashedly until the paramedics came down. One wrapped a blanket around him, the female, and gently coaxed him upstairs. The other removed Emily's vest, and examined her.

He frowned. "Let me get Shannon back down here, and we'll get you on the gurney."

"Oh no, I don't think so. I'll walk out to the ambulance."

"You could tear the wound further if you move, it's safer if we transport you," he said.

She shook her head. "No. I'm walking." Ignoring both his and Reid's protests, she used the railing to get to her feet, and proceeded to slowly, and painfully make her way up the stairs. Eventually, Reid quieted his protests, and moved closer to help her up. Reluctantly, she let him.

When they got outside to the circus of local PD and ambulances, she did get on the gurney, but only because she was in so much pain, she didn't want to move. With a wave to the guys, the ambulance took off to the hospital.

* * *

Seaver was pacing around her hotel room, trying unsuccessfully to wear herself down, and shake off the adrenaline. She was actually considering hitting the minibar, but had the feeling the Bureau accountants wouldn't be impressed with that charge. They'd gotten back from the hospital twenty minutes ago, the guys all looking tired, but very much relieved. After they'd taken his statement and a short hospital visit, Sebastian went home with his parents. He seemed to be okay when he walked out.

Emily had needed eleven stitches to close the wound in her abdomen, which all things considered, didn't sound too bad. The hospital was keeping her over night, over her unhappy protests. They had her on mild painkillers, and said if all was well in the morning, she could leave then. Needless to say, they were staying the night, and would fly home in the morning. Other than not wanting to stay at the hospital, she'd seemed in fine spirits, joking with Morgan and teasing Reid like it was any other day.

Seaver was fairly certain she wouldn't react that way to being stabbed. No, she was pretty damn sure she'd be terribly shaken up. Then again, if rumors were true, which after tonight she was thinking they probably were, Emily had suffered worse than a superficial stab wound in the past.

The ringing of her cell phone brought her pacing to a halt, and Seaver pulled if off her belt with clumsy fingers. Hell, she was a little shaken just from seeing someone else stabbed.

"Ashley," a familiar voice greeted, "I just heard from Agent Hotchner, seems the team had a little scare earlier today."

"Yes, ma'am. Agent Prentiss was injured while apprehending the suspect."

"Yes, Agent Hotchner told me about it, but I'd like to hear things from your perspective. Would you please describe what happened for me?" Strauss asked.

"Sure, of course, ma'am." Seaver slowly and carefully recited the events starting from the lead to the unsub, and ending when she'd walked out of the basement. Strauss was quiet through the whole thing.

"How is it that you and Agent Prentiss became separated from the rest of the group?"

"Uh, well we went in, in pairs ma'am. We found the passageway as we were clearing the library," she explained.

"And, you just decided to follow it to...where ever?"

"Agent Prentiss heard voices, ma'am. We followed the voices."

She could almost see Strauss calm nod. "Mmhmm, did you inform the rest of the team of your intent?"

"Well no, but Agent Prentiss didn't want to alert the unsub by yelling," she said.

"And, you said she motioned you to stand back, and holstered her weapon before advancing on the suspect?"

Seaver shifted uncomfortably. "Yes ma'am, but I'm sure she had her reasons."

"I'm sure," Strauss agreed with a satisfied musical lilt to her voice.

"Um, ma'am?"

"Yes, Ashley?"

She curled her free hand in and back, and shuffled her feet on the carpet. "Well, I've be rethinking our um...arrangement, and what I've told you, and I think I may have been a bit hasty in judging Agent Prentiss."

A beat of silence. "You don't want a spot on the team anymore?"

"No! No, of course I do! I desperately want to be on the team, I just, I wonder if this is the best way to go about it..."

"Ashley, what made you come back to my office and tell me your concerns regarding Agent Prentiss?"

"I was worried about her." And, I want that damn spot, she thought.

"Yes, and you have right to be worried. It took great courage to come forward, my dear, don't rethink yourself now." Her voice had gone back to it's kind, almost maternal tone.

Courage? She wasn't sure about that, but it did make her feel a bit less sick about the whole thing. "O-okay. Thank you, ma'am."

"Oh, thank you, Ashley." Strauss sounded immensely satisfied as she hung up.

Seaver hit the end button on her phone, and fell onto the bed. After today, she wasn't sure she'd done the right thing. Emily had saved that boy's life, and she didn't seem emotionally unstable when she did it. She seemed like a cop.

Sleep would not come easy tonight.

* * *

March 7, 2011

Emily watched Hotch snap his phone shut, and rejoin the group amassing in the bullpen to receive Garcia's usual welcome home greeting. He looked less than thrilled as he walked over, his eyes landing on her. "Strauss wants to see us immediately."

"Us?" Emily asked, eyebrows raised. Hotch nodded. She sighed unhappily and turned to Morgan. "Quick, stab me again."

"So not funny," he said.

"Wasn't trying to be funny," she grumbled. "Why does she want to see _us_, Hotch?"

He shrugged. "I'm sure it's just a debriefing to find out how you're doing."

She was tempted to argue, but there was no point, Hotch didn't have a say in this either. "Fine, let's go."

They dropped their go-bags by her desk, and headed out of the BAU to the lair of the Evil Beast Woman of Virginia. Emily would rather have dinner with her mother, than have a sit-down with Strauss. That was saying something. Elizabeth Prentiss wasn't exactly a barrel of monkeys, though Erin Strauss made her look like a trip to the Copacabana.

Unnervingly, her secretary waved them right into the office, smiling politely at them both. Janine was a sweet woman, and how she worked for Strauss, Emily would never understand. Though rumor had it, Janine was fond of benzos. She couldn't blame her.

"Agents, please have a seat." Strauss directed. Hotch closed the door, and like the perfect gentleman he was, gestured Emily to sit first. Strauss straightened up, and rested folded hands on her desk. "The reason I asked you both here is to discuss your recent behavior, Emily."

"Are you referring to last night, ma'am?" She asked, keeping her tone level and in check.

"I'm referring to the last few months. I understand your behavior has been a bit erratic, and it calls you mental health into question."

Her eyes widened. "Excuse me?"

Hotch rested a hand on her arm, sensing her firing up beside him. "If you wouldn't mind describing some of this behavior, ma'am?"

She inhaled. "Where to begin...expressing sentiments of hopelessness to coworkers, crying binges, irritability, lack of appetite, difficulty sleeping...need I go on?"

Emily's mouth opened and closed several times. Crying binges? When the hell had she had a crying binge? And, how the fuck did Strauss know she wasn't eating or sleeping? The woman was typically as about observant as a brick.

"I don't know where you're getting your information from, but as Agent Prentiss's supervisor, I assure you most of that isn't true, and what is, is certainly mild and hasn't disrupted the team. The BAU is stressful, difficulty coping is expected now and again, but we all get through it," Hotch said.

"I admire your loyalty to your team members, Aaron, but I'm afraid that loyalty is the exact reason I can't take you word on this."

"You don't trust me to take care of my own team?" He asked angrily.

"That's the problem, you aren't supposed to be _taking care_ of your team. They aren't children, they can look after themselves," she insisted.

"You misunderstand me-"

"No, I understand you fine. Agent Prentiss, after this last incident it's clear to me that you aren't well right now-"

"That's not true, I'm fine. And, what last incident? Yesterday? I was doing my job," Emily argued.

"Let's discuss that then, shall we?" Emily nodded. "You separated yourself from the group, and didn't inform them of your intention to follow what you believed was the unsub's voice. Can you tell me why, Emily, you motioned your young colleague Agent Seaver to stay behind, while you went after the unsub?"

Emily's blood ran cold. Seaver was the only one who could have told Strauss that, but she wouldn't...would she? "She's inexperienced in the field, I didn't want her to be injured."

"So, you were aware what you were about to do was foolish and risky?"

She bit her lip. "I didn't say that, there wasn't another option, the unsub would have killed that kid."

"Why did you holster your weapon before going after him then? Why not approach him from behind while armed, and force him to drop his weapon?" Strauss asked, infuriately calmly.

"If I'd done that, he would have killed the boy."

"You aren't a psychic, Emily, you couldn't be certain of that."

"But, she is a profiler," Hotch argued, "she's qualified to make a judgment call on an unsub."

She turned to Hotch. "So you're satisfied with this outcome then, Aaron? You have no problem with your Agents jumping blindly at unsubs, and hoping for the best?"

"That isn't what I did, you're twisting it around," Emily seethed.

"No, Emily that's exactly what you did. They all said you were reckless, and it I should have believed them. What's more, in light of your behavior previous to this incident, I have no choice but to take you out of the field. You're a danger to yourself and your team, and I can't allow that. You are suspended. Get some help, and in the future you can come in for an evaluation by the Bureau psychologists."

She couldn't believe it. She honestly couldn't believe what she'd just heard. "You're suspending me? For something Morgan would receive a commendation for? You have to be kidding me."

"No, I'm quite serious. And, Agent Morgan doesn't have a recent history of mental instability."

"I am not mentally unstable! Ask the team! I swear they'll you the same." She was on her feet, leaning forward, speaking far too loudly, and probably backing up Strauss's assessment, but she was furious.

"I have a reliable source who disagrees. I'd advise you return to the BAU and pack your things."

"Pack my-how long is this suspension?"

"Indefinite, and Emily you should know, considering you mental state, it's possible you'll be returned to field work one day, but highly unlikely you'll ever be assigned to a high stress unit like the BAU again."

She couldn't breathe. She couldn't think. And, her stomach ached, not the stitches but a deep, agonizing ache. She might be sick. She would not cry. Not in front of Strauss.

"You can't be serious," Hotch objected. He looked as blindsided as she felt. "This isn't right. She saved that boy's life, and her actions weren't even that risky."

"I've made my decision, Aaron." She looked at Emily. "I do hope you get the help you need, Emily."

"I'm going to be short an agent, and I don't need to tell you I'm already short a media liaison," Hotch said.

"Agent Seaver can pick up the slack, she'll be graduating soon as I understand it."

"With all due respect, ma'am, Seaver isn't a profiler. She's not even an agent."

"She'll do for now. If you're unhappy with her work, I'll send you some personnel files and you can pick from them."

Seaver again. No, that couldn't be, she couldn't believe that of the girl. But, no one outside the team knew what was going on with her, and Seaver was the only one she couldn't swear wouldn't talk to Strauss.

Seaver was getting her position on the team.

Oh god, she felt sick. Her legs felt like jello, but she forced them to move one after the other, and take her out of the office, Hotch behind her. Her head was spinning and whirling, and she felt like she couldn't catch her breath. This couldn't be happening.

Hotch pulled her aside once outside Strauss's office, and looked into her eyes. "I'll fight this, Prentiss. She's in the wrong here, and she knows it. I'll go over her head."

Emily just nodded, too deep in shock and too busy trying to control her gag reflex to comment. He'd said the same thing to JJ, and how many months later, she was still at the DOD.

Hotch seemed to notice that she wasn't quite with it, and gently escorted her back to the BAU. At least, almost to the BAU. She detoured to the ladies room to vomit, and after she cleaned herself up, she headed to storage to grab a box.

This couldn't be happening.

* * *

Hotch marched back into the bullpen, without Emily, and headed straight for Rossi's office, closing the door behind him. He looked pissed. A couple minutes later, Emily came back, looking pale and out of it, a box in her head. Seaver's stomach twisted up in knots when the profiler reached her desk, and set the box on her chair. Morgan and Reid were both watching Emily, picking up on all her little behavioral clues that were still somewhat of a mystery to Seaver.

She watched Emily, sigh and blow into her hands, like she was trying to ground herself. She then pulled the lid off the box, and opened the top drawer in her desk. Seaver saw Reid and Morgan shooting each other alarmed looks, as if the other might have more insight into the situation. Surprisingly, it was Reid who found his voice first.

Clearing his throat, voice soft and tentative, he asked, "Emily, what's going on?"

She had avoided eye contact with any of them up to that point, and though she glanced up now, she still didn't meet either man's gaze. "Strauss suspended me, indefinitely."

"What?" Morgan blurted, voice high with emotion.

She didn't look at him. "According to her I'm reckless and mentally unstable, a danger to myself and my team...there's a chance I'll be let back in the field in the future, but she made it clear, I'll never be part of the BAU again."

"That's insane, she can't do that," Morgan continued to object.

Emily continued carefully placing items in the box. "She can and did."

The sound of people approaching stopped them, and all four looked over to see a pissed off Hotch, and a dour-faced Rossi approaching. Rossi nodded at Emily. "We'll fight this, I have connections above Erin, you'll be back here before you know it."

"Thanks, Dave," she offered him a small smile, but Seaver could see she wasn't really holding out much hope.

"This is real?" Reid asked, looking rather lost.

Hotch nodded. "Not for long."

Emily ignored them, and went through her stack of consults, tossing half on Reid's desk, and the other half on Morgan's desk. Hotch approached her then. "Do you have any idea who Strauss's source is? If we know who it is, we can figure out how much he or she fabricated."

Emily did meet his eyes. "I have an idea, but I can't confirm it, so I won't say."

They engaged in an eye-locked exchanged for a few seconds, during which time Hotch seemed to draw some conclusion, because he broke contact and nodded. Seaver felt like she might be sick.

Emily sighed. "I have to go tell Garcia."

"You want back-up?" Morgan offered.

"No, I've got it, thanks." She gave him a small smile. Then her attention suddenly went to Seaver, and the cadet's stomach turned violently over. Emily nodded toward the glass BAU doors, and then started walking toward them. Seaver followed, feeling her palms grow instantly clammy and her body instantly washed in the heat of nervous energy.

To her chagrin, the profiler pulled her into an interrogation room. "I need you to tell me the truth, and I'll know if you're lying. Are you Strauss's source?"

She swallowed, but couldn't seem to make her mouth move to deny or confirm.

Emily nodded, looking away, tongue running over her lips. "She promised you a position on the team?"

Still unable to speak, she managed to nod. No point in lying now.

"Do you know why Strauss hates me?" Seaver shook her head. Emily paced a few steps, and then turned to her. "When first joined the team, she tried to get me to spy on Hotch, she wanted him out of his leadership position. I resigned. At least, I attempted to, but Hotch and Garcia blocked it...Strauss got the point though."

"I-I was worried, something's been going on with you, and no one was doing anything about it, so I uh, told her." She bit her lip, hands clenching at her sides.

"There is four profilers out there with more experience than your or I, do you really think none of them noticed? And, why didn't you go to Hotch if you were worried?"

"I don't know, I guess I didn't think he'd listen to me."

It was clear Emily didn't believe that. She closed her eyes and took a breath. "Do you honestly think I so far gone, I'm a danger to the team?"

"No," she said quickly. "I don't think that."

"So, then it was really all about getting a position on the team?"

"No, I-I was worried about you, I just..." What was she supposed to say? I'm sorry I screwed you over, I made a mistake?

Emily shook her head, the tension in her body suggesting it was all but out of patience. She stared at nothing across the room for several minutes as her body slowly deflated of anger, of fight, of something Seaver couldn't quite put her finger on. Suddenly she turned back to the cadet. "I know you're young and inexperienced, and you don't really understand what you did yet," she said, inhaling. "But in five, maybe ten years when you've been in the Bureau a while, had a few partners, a team, you will Seaver, and it's going to hit you like a ton of bricks...and, I hope you get through it."

She didn't quite understand that, but nodded anyway. Emily began to pace again, and Seaver felt a more than a little nervous being in that tiny interrogation room with her. The profiler suddenly stopped in front of her, and Seaver nearly swallowed her tongue.

"Do you realize you just destroyed any chance you had of being a part of the team?"

Seaver was taken aback. "What do you mean, I-"

Emily cut her off. "You'll be on it, you'll work cases with them, you'll travel around the country with them, but you won't be _part_ of the team. Eventually, they will find out your part in this, and they won't be able to trust you. They'll be civil at work, but they won't joke with you, and they won't confide in you." She paused and took a breath. "This team is a family, _my family_, easily the best thing I've ever been a part of, and while that may not mean much to you, it means a hell of a lot to all of us."

She felt like she couldn't breathe, like someone had just put a hot stone in her stomach. "Emily, I-"

"Don't. I have to go tell Garcia I'm out..." She shook her head, and headed for the door, only to stop and turn back abruptly. "Did you hesitate at all before you sold me out?"

Seaver was paralyzed, unable to think or speak, her head pounding as she took in the look of betrayal in her mentor's eyes. It wasn't supposed to go like this. It wasn't supposed to make her feel this bad. She was helping, it took courage coming forward, that's what Strauss said. Except she'd known that wasn't true even when she said it. She knew what the SC wanted, and what she was giving her. Seaver had known exactly what she was doing when she did it, and she did it anyway.

But, it wasn't supposed to feel like this.

* * *

"Hey kitten," Garcia swung around in her chair as Emily walked into her office, one hand on her aching side. She'd forgotten in the shock of her suspension, and now the pain reared up with a vengeance. "Oh, that doesn't look good."

"It's fine, I'm just moving a little too much."

"You better sit then." She was about to get up, but Emily stopped her. Garcia must have seen something in her face, but hers drained of all enthusiasm. "What's going on?"

"I'm out of the BAU, suspended indefinitely," Emily said, and began to explain what was going. She watched Garcia's eyes fill up with tears as she spoke, and it hurt like hell.

"No, no, no, this isn't happening. They already took JJ, they can't take you too." Garcia shook her head vehemently. "I'm going to hack Strauss's financial records and destroy everything!"

"No, you're not. You'll get arrested, and then the team will be short a tech goddess too."

She deflated. "This isn't fair. That evil bitch is taking the team apart piece by piece, and we can't do anything about it."

"Hotch and Rossi said they'd fight it." Emily shrugged.

"So, is she sending a new agent in then to replace you?"

"No," Emily said, "she seems to think Seaver can handle it."

"What?" Garcia gaped. "She's not even an agent! And, she wants an inexperienced trainee to back up my boys in the field? Is she out of her mind?"

"I thought you liked her?" Emily frowned.

"I don't dislike her, and I respect her desire to learn, but my favorite superwoman ass-kicking agent she is not. Oh, Strauss has to have lost it...I feel sick." Garcia suddenly fell back into her chair, looking a little pale.

"You okay, PG?"

"No, I'm not. This doesn't make sense..."

Emily squeezed her shoulder. "I have to go," she said, turning to go. She needed to get away, so she could lose it in private. She refused to cry at work. Before she made it to the door, Garcia was suddenly there, squeezing the life out of her. To the point where she actually cried out from the pressure to her wound.

"Oh god, I'm so sorry, are you okay?" Garcia jumped back, eyes watery, cheeks wet.

"Yeah, I'll be alright...will you?"

She nodded. "I'll call Kevin, it's almost quitting time anyway."

Emily squeezed her hand, and left the tech's office for the last time as a member of the team. There was a stoic goodbye with Hotch, who again promised to fix it. And Rossi hugged her, in an almost fatherly fashion, and again assured her she'd be back there soon. Those were hard, but Reid and Morgan, that would hurt even more.

She meant to perch herself on the genius's desk, but that hurt too much, so she settled for standing beside him. "So, being that I won't be flying with you anymore, we're going to need a new arrangement for you to teach me Weiqi. How do you feel about Tuesday nights?"

He looked at her with this sadness in his eyes, face partially down turned like he was trying to hide. "Tuesdays work."

"You know I'll still just be a phone call away, right?"

He nodded and faked a smile, not meeting her eyes. "Of course."

"Or an email, if you ever decide to get an address," she joked.

He seemed to chuckle, but didn't respond verbally. Emily sighed. "Hey Reid, look at me a minute, please."

He did, and it was almost hard to meet his eyes. Reid did not do people leaving well, and she could see the hurt on his face. Not that he blamed her, she knew he didn't, but still, it was hard to watch someone leave...again.

"I'm not going to disappear like Gideon did, I promise," She said, gently squeezing his hand.

Instead of responding, he stood up and hugged her, careful not to press on her wound. He was the little brother she never had. He released her with a smile. "Tuesdays," he said with a nod.

"Good, I'll text you." He sat back down, and she turned to see Morgan already watching her, an unreadable expression on his face.

"I've got this," he said, grabbing the box off her desk. She didn't object, because frankly, she didn't want to tear her stitches. They already hurt enough that she was ready to pop a pill and call it a day.

Emily followed him to the glass doors, and felt a tightening in her chest as she walked through those doors for the last time as a part of the BAU. This was it. This was really it. Strauss had finally found a way to repay her for the proverbial 'fuck you' Emily had given her three and a half years ago. She didn't say goodbye to Seaver, she had no reason, and the cadet wasn't around anyway.

Morgan stopped by her car, and looked almost as bummed as Reid had earlier. She opened the door and then let him slide it in her backseat. "That can wait a couple days. Don't try to take it up to your apartment until your stitches are out," he said.

"I'll be alright, Morgan."

He crossed his arms over his chest. "This is complete bullshit, you know that right?"

"Spoken by the man who suggested I see a shrink."

"Because you were depressed, not mentally unstable. If you were mentally unstable, I'd have snatched your glock from you, and those boots of yours with the nasty looking heels."

She smiled. "I love those boots." Then she sighed. "I had my first appointment with a shrink last week."

His eyes went wide, and his eyebrows jumped up on his forehead. "Now that is something I never expected to hear...How'd it go?"

"Awful," she laughed. "But, I'm going back this week."

"I hope it works, Prentiss. I don't think I've seen you smile in months. Not with your eyes anyway." She glanced at the floor, a bit uncomfortable now. He cleared his throat. "Emily?"

"Yeah?" She looked up.

"Strauss's source...it's Seaver isn't it?"

Initially it caught her off guard, but then she figured they'd all figured it out by now. A lump caught in her throat and she nodded. "She sold me out, Morgan. Just like that."

He pulled her into a hug then. "You heard Hotch and Rossi, they'll fix this. You'll be back soon enough, and until then, you work on getting that smile back."

"Thanks, and thank you for always being there to talk to," she said, pulling back.

"Always will be," he said matter-of-factly.

Emily climbed into her car then, hands shaking as she tried to grip the wheel, and slowly backed out of parking space. Morgan stood nearby, and she gave him a wave as she directed the car to the exit. She drove out of Quantico then, for the last time as part of the BAU team that became her family in the almost five years she'd been a member. Her eyes began to mist then, and rather than try to hold it in and blind herself, she let the tears fall.

She felt like she was leaving her home.

* * *

_Okay, writing this story was much harder for me than expected. Writing Emily as breaking down, while still keeping her functional was very difficult. Writing a character, who in my opinion, has all the personality of a cucumber (Seaver), may have been even more difficult, as was finding a balance between being fair to what personality she does have, and making this plot work. And, writing that scene in Strauss's office gave me a wicked stomachache for a while, I felt that bad doing this to Emily. This all to say, it was challenging in a lot of ways, and I'd love to hear what everyone thinks now that it's done. _

_Thanks for reading!_


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